Mirrors
by Midnight and Enchanted
Summary: This is the history of Spot Conlon revealed during a territory war with Midnight, leader of the Bronx newsies. The truth behind the key and Spot's existence. When a Spot lookalike from Britain pops up in the Bronx, chaos breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Newsies don't belong to us...sadly...none of the characters in here belong to us...cept for Enchanted and Midnight...and that's cuz they're us. Enjoy!  
  
  
Mirrors  
  
The screams of agony tore at the hushed, calm air inside the mansion. They bounced off the tapestries on the walls, and flew past the flickering fire within the marble fireplace, until there was a sudden silence. Then, as if to restore the screams that had been ringing for an hour, the wailing of a healthy baby started.  
  
The well-to-do woman thrashed about on the sagging bed, cursing the inevitable pain that came from pleasure, agony that came from love. Hell, right now, nothing made a difference, not her beauty, not her possessions, not even her money. The only thing that mattered right now was the pain, and that she get rid of it. She grimaced, and a high wail left her throat, making it ache. Not one, but two babies were to leave her tonight, then. Twins. She would have to give them half of everything. Half of her time, half of her possessions...and she would have to divide half to the money and estates that her father-in-law would supply her with.  
  
Like hell she would.  
  
She had worked hard to catch her husband's eye, to have him marry her, to get this far, and there was no chance that her youngest was going to botch this up for her. The realization of this thought caused her much more pain and anger than the last hour had. And as she labored exerting more and more effort with each wave of pain, she swiftly made a decision.  
  
The wailing of another boy joined the first, and strengthened the chorus of cries. Carlotta, the sweet old family maid, fretted above her master, taking the time to occasionally swab her forehead with cold water, and patting her arm reassuringly. Finally, she swept the light, brown hair from her master's exhausted eyes and proceeded to clean her up.   
  
Elizabeth arched her back, achingly aware of the pain sending everything into a daze. Quickly reaching for the brown, coarse blanket she covered herself with it and motioned for Carlotta to come closer. Carlotta obediently padded nearer, expecting to hear the order most new mothers gave: give me my babies. Such lovely sons they were too. Fine, brown hair, like their mother's, and beautiful blue-green eyes, acquired from their wonderful father. They were destined to do great things. She knew it was so. She waited for her to inform her of what she should do, as she cleaned off the mess on the two babies.   
  
"Kill the youngest one," came the whisper.  
  
"What?!" was Carlotta's horrified reply.  
  
She repeated herself once more.  
  
"Madame, no..." Carlotta shook her head, unaware of how serious she was. Her only thought was, 'She's joking. She's incompetent. After all, she just suffered through nine hours worth of pain.' But the look in her eyes was grim, and foreboding.  
  
Elizabeth knew how weak Carlotta was, how she would easily do whatever she said. She was soft, moldable in her hands.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's fairly simple. If I were to let the two of them live, one day, my husband would have to split the estate between them. The money might not stay in the family, might go along to another wench. If there was but one heir, however---" Elizabeth left the words unsaid.  
  
"But Madame," Carlotta argued readily. She was appalled at the amount of greed this woman had deep inside of her. She stared at Elizabeth. Only minutes ago she had actually admired this woman. Now, there was only a deep, profound hatred. To take one of these boys and...kill him?   
  
"Do it," the hissing voice was firm.   
  
Carlotta gawked at Elizabeth, with her knowing gray eyes, and mussed brown hair. And suddenly, she couldn't stand to be in the same space as her employer, couldn't stand to breathe the same air as the cold, ruthless woman. Complying, and blinking back salty tears of shame, she swept up the youngest and frailest of the two, and stalked out of the room, her drab brown skirt trailing behind her. For the past few minutes, the twins hadn't stopped their wailing, and as she roughly picked the littlest one up, their crying got louder. Then, for a second, the baby had stopped its incessant wailing, and looked up at her with its watery blue-green eyes. Carlotta could feel its gaze tear upon her heart. "God help me," she murmured, clutching him to her bosom.  
  
Behind her, as the door shut, she could hear the older boy start crying again, and she could tell that the mother was not going to try to quiet him at all.  
  
She glanced down at the hiccuping baby in her arms. "No," she corrected herself. "God help them."  
~*~  
  
Like swift wings slicing through the night, Carlotta ran. At first, she didn't know what to do, the thoughts swarming about in her head, as unceasingly as she clutched the hiccuping baby in her arms. Her first thought was to throw him in the river, but her conscience proved too much for that, and with her aching limbs, sat down underneath a birch tree and cried along with the baby.  
  
And then she knew what to do. The answer was heaven-sent, plucking away at her mind until it became obvious. She couldn't go to anyone too close to the family, but rather an observer, one who was good and kind. And so she flew to Thomas McArthur, father-in-law of Elizabeth, supplier of all the money. Since they all lived in the same house, she had to be careful. Slipping like a phantom through the house she had run from earlier, she reached the biggest room in the place, reserved for Thomas. She knocked on his door frantically, trying to keep the baby quiet.  
  
When he opened it, she nearly shoved the baby in his face, entered the room and slammed the door behind her.  
  
"Who---what---" the grandfather trailed off as he took note of the bluish-green eyes. "My grandson?" he asked, with mute joy. He had known for days now that Elizabeth was to give birth, and he had been waiting, anticipating for both his grandsons to come.  
  
"She wants me to kill him," was the breathless answer.  
  
That got his attention pretty quick. "WHO?" Thomas shouted, enraged, not bothering to hide his confusion and anger.  
  
With halting words, she explained all to him, keeping it short and concise. At the end of her tale, the grandfather nodded briskly. "Yes. Indeed. You were wise to come to me, Carlotta. I know what to do. And you must go back to Elizabeth, and tell her that you have killed this one. Don't worry." As he instructed her, he hastily wrapped the boy in a cloth. The look on his face was purely impassive, as if he had been expecting something like this would happen. But one look at his bluish-green eyes, and she could see the turmoil that brewed inside of them.   
  
Thomas quickly ushered Carlotta out the door, making sure that she closed the door firmly behind her. He shook his head ruefully. To think, that today was to be a joyful day. He laid his aging, rheumatic hand onto the baby, and it seemed to calm down again for an instant. He carefully placed him on the bed, securing his position so that he wouldn't roll off and crossed the room in brisk steps, going straight to a dresser in a corner. He hurriedly snatched up a glinting object from it, leaving the only other object alone.  
  
A key hung from his hand, and his hand shook as he fastened the string around the baby's neck. For one moment, he stood back to survey the result of his work. The key winked at him, making a huge contrast against the smooth, pale skin of his youngest grandchild. Choking back a yell of protest, he snatched the little boy up again. If he left him here, Elizabeth would surely find another way to kill him. There was no other way to let the boy live. Only to hand him on to another person and make sure they took him far far away from his cruel mother. He quietly opened his wooden door, and made a silent prayer to the powers that be, begging them to let his two grandsons find each other again.  
  
As the cold night air touched the baby's cheeks, he felt warm inside this coarse blanket. And only now, now that he was safe, did he close his bluish-green eyes in exhaustion, and sleep.  
~*~  
  
His bluish-green eyes shone with pure adrenaline. "Dis territory belongs ta me and Brooklyn. No...one...else." Spot's harsh voice drew a passerby out of the crowd.  
  
"Oh, hell, no," she muttered, stepping back into the shadows, and melting into the walls of the building, watching her three friends.  
  
The three girls facing Spot both sighed exasperatedly, as if they had heard the same speech being recited so many times before. Which they had. The shorter girl tossed her long, flowing chocolate-brown hair behind her shoulder. "Dis place belongs ta me and Brooklyn. No.... one....else...." she imitated, using a high voice and raising her upper lift in a grimace.  
  
The taller girl next to her snickered uncontrollably, her sapphire-emerald eyes glinting at the 'hilarious' remark. "Oh my GOD, Mimic!"  
  
Luna stayed silent, her shining black hair resting on her shoulder. When Spot opened his mouth to speak again, she interrupted and snapped, "Oh, just shut dat whining voice a yours Spot, just shut up!"  
  
And Midnight allowed herself to smile at the audacity of her three closest girls.  
  
Spot angrily clenched his hands into fists, which to Snicker's and Midnight's delight, Mimic imitated. "Stop it," he ordered.  
  
"No," Mimic snapped back.  
  
Snicker stopped snickering for a minute and said readily, "Ain't no one dat can boss us around, and you can't either, seein' as how you're on Bronx property."  
  
"Dis ain't Bronx, dis is Brooklyn," he spat back in response, "And heah I can do anyt'ing I'se want." As if to prove this, he raised a closed fist and struck her with it.   
Snicker staggered backwards, and her hand flew up to her reddening cheek.  
  
Midnight felt slow anger build up inside of her, and she hurriedly stepped out of the shadows. "Fuck off, Spot," she warned quietly. Snicker, Mimic, and Luna spun around to acknowledge her. "Git off my territory."  
  
"Your territory ended a few feet ago, Midnight," Spot shot back, "Now get dese bitches off my territory before I kick dere asses off."  
  
In reply, Midnight put one foot down and stepped forward.  
  
Suddenly, as if they had been summoned, a girl with dark slightly wavy hair that shone in the sun, and big, mellow, chocolate, brown eyes stepped forward. Behind her, a tall boy with dark hair and deep, distant blue eyes.  
  
"Spot," the girl snapped, "Whad da hell do you'se t'ink you are doin'?!"  
"Be quiet, Ember," he ordered at his girlfriend. Normally, Ember would have started an argument with him, but she knew something important was going on. She obeyed, and crossed her arms haughtily, leaning against the wall of a near building.  
  
"Spot, what's goin' on?" the boy asked. Spot faced his right-hand newsie.   
  
"Blue, stand next ta Ember and be quiet. Midnight ain't gonna back down again. Might mean a rumble."  
  
Blue's eyes shone with anticipation. "Let me fight too!" he pleaded, very much like he was seven years old.  
  
"Stand ovah dere, Blue," he repeated.  
  
Blue obeyed, sulkily, and stood next to Ember. He watched as Midnight and Spot exchanged harsh words and sighed longingly. He wanted to fight too...  
  
Ember however, just wanted them to stop. No matter how much Spot had forbidden it, she was friends with the Bronx newsgirls, and she talked with Midnight at least once a week. Pouting, she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, surveying Midnight's stance. She didn't look tough, or strong for that matter, but there was this certain 'look' that came into her eyes, a certain stance she had to show that she was dangerous and not to cross her. But stubborn, stupid Spot...he would undoubtedly start a fight with her.  
  
And he did. He was the first to throw a punch, which Midnight easily blocked. She lashed out, intending to kick him, but he merely jumped backwards. The fight was on. But it seemed to the bystanders that they were matched, punch for punch, kick for kick. It was intense, the way to describe it. At one point in the fight, Spot swung his fist up and hit her above the eyebrow. The skin opened and blood started dripping out. Midnight jabbed her hand into Spot's eye, and he pushed himself away from her. There was a lull as they circled each other, until finally, Midnight dove forward and tackled him. He fell backward, and most of her weight was centered on his ribs. There was a faint cracking noise, and Spot groaned with an unexpected wave of pain. He kneed her in the stomach to get her off of him.  
Breathing deeply, he struggled to get to his feet.   
  
"Dat enough fo' you?" Midnight panted, "There ain't nothing dat's gonna make me give up whatevah things I own. Don't mess with me goils, and I'se won't be forced to really beat on your ass latah." Midnight and her three girls turned around and walked away.  
  
Spot glared...or tried to. It didn't really work with his impressive shiner. And his ribs were hurting so badly. He limped away, and when Ember tried to put an arm around Spot, he shoved her away. "Git away. I don't need any help." As he said it, his legs crumpled underneath him, and the ground rushed up to meet him. Blue rushed forward to help him up, but Spot did the same thing he did to Ember. Push him away. All the way back to the Lodging House, he refused to accept help from anyone.  
  
Midnight watched after him. She had a not-too-bad gash above her eyebrow and a bruise on her stomach, but it didn't hurt too much. 'Must have cracked something when I landed on him,' she thought worriedly.  
  
"Damn, dat kicked so much ass," Snicker commented lightly.  
  
"Dis might mean war," she replied, "His pride is shot now. He'll come back ta confront me, try to bring some of it back, you know? And when he does, I won't hold back like I did."  
  
"Dat was holdin' back?!" Mimic screeched, making Snicker chuckle.  
  
Midnight only smiled. "Hey, Mimic, Snicker, Luna, go ta Manhattan. See what Jack has ta say."  
  
"Is dat smart?" Snicker asked, "I mean, Jack's good friends wid Spot."  
  
"Yeah," Midnight responded, "But he ain't gonna git in da middle of it. Aftah all, he's got Manhattan to look after too. Oh, and say hi ta everyone dere fo' me, all right? I gotta go think of some things."   
  
Mimic, Snicker, and Luna nodded dutifully and the both of them started off.   
  
Midnight looked thoughtfully after them and then started walking back to her Lodging House. "Stupid Spot," she remarked under her breath. "Stupid, stupid Spot." 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Newsies don't belong to us...sadly...none of the characters in here belong to me...cept for Enchanted and Midnight...and that's cuz they're us.... Enjoy!  
  
Mirrors  
  
  
Enchanted didn't try to hide her smile as she emerged from the crowded racetracks. She quickly concealed a pocket watch into her vest pocket, waiting for Race to come out in search of it. Brushing back her unusual black-streaked-honey-brown hair, she laughed gleefully to herself. He had to walk her home now, now that she had filched his precious watch.  
  
But all thoughts of Racetrack and a warm evening together died away as she searched up and down the street and caught sight of three familiar figures. "Luna! Snicker! Hey, Mimic, over here!" she waved jubilantly, beckoning them over, her large brown eyes flickering at the prospect of having a nice little gossip with them.  
  
"Hey. Uh, can't talk now," Luna greeted, speaking for all of them, "We gotta go see Jacky-boy."  
  
"What's wrong?" Enchanted asked worriedly, knowing that Midnight would never send over any of her girls unless there was a good reason. And besides that, all three of them had such worried looks on their faces. They didn't like wearing their emotions out on their sleeves, and the quickly hid whatever emotions they were feeling behind a hard-to-break facade.  
  
"Nothing," Luna cut in quickly, the pale skin she was famous for getting even paler.   
  
"You spect me to believe that?" Enchanted snorted as she looked the three girls over again. Luna and Snicker were definitely very nervous, fidgeting with their fingers, and shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Only Mimic could successfully squirrel away her emotions, but that was because she was such a good actress. Enchanted could sense that something was wrong, something much deeper than an ordinary boy problem or spat with a close friend. "Seriously, goils, what's wrong?"   
  
Luna rocked forward secretively, and Enchanted could tell that she was very close to telling her, when Mimic smacked her and pulled her backwards.  
  
"Fo' heaven's sake, goils!" Enchanted shouted, irritated, "Whadevah's happenin', I'll understand! I'll keep it damn secret if you want me ta!"   
  
"No," Snicker readily shot back, "Just lead us back ta Jack, so we can tell him, and--"  
  
"Dere was a fight," Luna voiced hurriedly, before anyone could stop her. She had decided to spill it all for two reasons. Enchanted was a good friend of Midnight, perhaps her closest, and she would undoubtedly want to be the first to hear. The other reason was to spite Mimic for her unheeded actions.  
  
"Oh, annuda one, huh?" Enchanted turned away distractedly, already knowing that it was Midnight getting into trouble with some other guy again, most likely, someone from Brooklyn.  
  
"Spot Conlon, to be exact," Luna said through gritted teeth, trying to contain her temper, but couldn't hide it through her clenched fists, "Dat jerk...dat..." she ranted on, her curses getting worse and worse, until even Mimic shied away from her in a well-brought-on fear.   
  
Enchanted crossed her arms and waited for Luna to finish, and when she ended with a flourish and a growl, she then continued to explain briefly, what had happened.  
  
"Wait!" Enchanted yelled, her voice getting louder, "So Midnight got hurt?" her voice came out in a screech. "Oh, God," she started pacing back and forth, oblivious to the three girls' arguments of 'She wasn't hurt that bad. Conlon was hurt more than she was!'  
  
Interrupting the dark, somber mood, Racetrack came scampering out of the hotel, an enraged glare on his face. He ran past Enchanted without realizing who she was, did a double take that looked adorable on his face and back pedaled swiftly.  
  
"Enchanted!" he snarled, "Gimme back me watch, now!"   
  
Without even considering, she dug the antique, yet shiny (Race took his time to polish it as well as he could) pocket watch out of her vest pocket and tossed it halfheartedly at him.  
  
Astounded, he caught it and gawked at her. "Enchanted Ordona," he started saying in an amazed way. "You've nevah jist handed me my watch befoah without a fight!"   
  
"Not right now, Racetrack," she ordered, emphasizing every word.  
  
He took one look at the four girls' faces and inwardly blanched. These girls didn't like showing if they were upset or afraid. And right now, their feelings were displayed on their faces and in their actions, for the entire world to see. "What's wrong?" he asked, in a calmer, more controlled tone that let them know he wasn't joking around now.  
  
Snicker explained it to him then, with Luna and Mimic interrupting several times to set the facts straight and Enchanted barging in with questions that were left unanswered as they went on with their story. When all was said, the restless Enchanted jumped up from her perch, her train of thought occupied with one thing: to get up to the Bronx and see Midnight.   
  
Race ran his hands through his unruly hair, wondering what he was going to do next, when he noted Enchanted making a hasty exit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Chant. Whea do ya t'ink you'se goin'?"  
  
Her quick reply was, "Whaddya t'ink, smarty? I gotta see Midi."   
  
"No!" he protested, jumping up, "Ya can't! Whad'll happen if Brooklyn's up dere waitin' fo' you?"  
  
Mimic and Snicker readily agreed, saying that if Spot should find them creeping along the Brooklyn/Bronx limits, he would kick them around a little bit before giving them the boot. Luna nodded, accentuating everything the two girls said. "If we go and he catchs us, we're dead."  
  
"Well, den, dere ain't nuttin' ta worry about," Enchanted replied curtly, "Cuz 'we' ain't goin' nowhere. I am though." As soon as she announced this, she hurriedly gave a huge kiss to Race and started off on her own, oblivious and deaf to their protests.  
  
"Damn," Luna cursed, "Whad is wrong with dat goil?!"  
  
"Nuttin' at all," Race beamed after Enchanted's retreating figure and stuck a cigar in his mouth.  
  
  
Enchanted sidestepped a carriage that seemed intent on running her over. "Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head at the driver and his foolishness. Her thoughts turned back once again to Midnight, her closest friend, even more trusted than the girls at the Manhattan Lodging House were. Their friendship had started years ago, over a stolen cup of coffee, and had continued on to when Midnight and Enchanted moved to the Bronx to become newsgirls. The one thing that Enchanted hadn't counted on was her seemingly spontaneous attraction to Race. It was the only reason why she wasn't living in the Bronx Lodging House. Moving was something that Midnight almost forced her to do, really, telling her that if Enchanted didn't live closer to Racetrack, she would single-handedly break them up.   
  
Enchanted shook her head, musing over Midnight's actions. Despite Midnight being so tough and hardened, she knew it concealed a rather soft heart. The only times when she exposed her sentimental side was when she got effectively drunk. Which she didn't do quite often.   
  
Enchanted dodged another carriage and continued on her way to the Bronx.  
  
~*~  
  
  
Race led the three now-complacent girls through the ajar door of the Manhattan Lodging House. "Jacky-boy! Hey! Jack!"   
  
"He ain't heah yet," a quiet voice made all four of them jump. Race looked up the stairs and smiled winningly at the arcane girl sitting alone on the second step. "How are ya, Rook?"  
  
"I'm fine. T'anks for asking." The cold tone of voice in which she answered his obligated question would have made a complete stranger believe that she hated Racetrack. But Racetrack knew better. Rook had somber misgivings about the male gender and would have continued hating all of them had it not been for Jack. Of course, Race couldn't blame her for being so wary of men. If a girl had done to him what men had done to Rook, he would have probably sworn off of girls forever. And that wouldn't be good.  
  
"Where is Jack?" he questioned in a low voice.  
  
"I don't know," she answered nervously, picking at a tangle in her raven hair. Then, her deep chocolate eyes lit up suddenly. "Are we gonna have a pokah game tonight?"   
  
If there was one thing about Rook that Race loved, it was her insane lucky streak. Racetrack considered it a challenge to play even poker against her, a game in which he had been blessed with the best skills and expertise of anyone in the Lodging House. Well, he amended the thought, since Rook came along anyways. "Yeah, we'll play tonight," Racetrack muttered, already knowing that whatever the outcome, she was sure to end up with more money than him.   
  
Rook smiled at the three girls gathered behind Race. "Found any guys yet, goils?"  
  
"Dere more pain den dey're worth," Luna rolled her eyes.  
  
"Nah. Not really," Rook smiled enigmatically.  
  
"Jist cuz you've got Jack," Snicker said bitterly, "Who happens ta be one of da best guys in da woild."  
  
"Nah. Not really," Rook repeated, causing the three girls to laugh.   
  
"Who else is upstairs?" Race asked after the laughter subsided.   
  
"Pretty much everyone, cept Enchanted. She was with you, if I remembah."  
  
Race nodded abstractedly and went past her on the stairs.  
  
"See ya later ta you too," Rook grumbled under her breath and let the other three pass.  
  
They had just gone a few feet into the Bunk Room when they heard an indignant screech. "Mush, git away from me journal!" There was a thud, like a heavy body hitting the ground, and then a groan.   
  
"You'd t'ink he would have learned da foist time he tried dat," Race shook his head mournfully.   
  
"No, cuz he's too stupid ta know any bettah!" the furious girl shot back. Her hair was midnight black and cut into a bob that grazed the skin just below her chin. Her skin was ordinary, and there was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, surprising because she was Asian. Her almond shaped eyes were usually full of laughter, but right now, they shot anger at Mush who had dared to intrude on her private life.   
  
"Ah, bettah leave em at it," Race muttered cynically, "in the next few minutes, dey'll be kissin' each udda so hard dey won't be able ta breath."  
  
Snicker, true to her name, snickered.  
  
  
Skittery lay on his bed, shutting off whatever light he was receiving by pulling a pillow over his head. "Go away, Hyp. Come on, I got a headache da size a Statue a Liberty, could ya just leave me alone?"  
  
"Aww, you're no fun," Hyp criticized in a loud voice, "C'mon, Skittery, let's go do something! Are ya jist gonna sit around and do nothing?!"  
  
"Yes," Skittery answered bluntly.  
  
Race shook his head. It had surprised him when Skittery and Hyp had started going steady, being that they were complete opposites. When questioned about their relationship, Hyp would merely shrug and shoot her unusual violet eyes towards Skittery. "You know what dey say," she would answer wittingly, "opposites attract." It was the truth. Often, you would see her laughing or smiling while Skittery, who was always by her side, would be afflicted with one of his famous headaches. Tall and almost tan, Hyp was known to sing her headlines to catch peoples' attention.  
  
IF was watching this all with an amused smile on her face. She was absentmindedly playing with the slingshot she always kept in her back pocket, while resting with Snitch on his bed, snuggled up tightly with him. Once in a while, he would run a hand through her wavy black hair. Her trademark was the scar that stretched around her neck from an earlier accident that she hated to talk about. Her name stood for Irish Flare, which fit her appropriately. She got mad as only the Irish could, with flashing Cray-an eyes and a foul mouth.  
  
  
Race's attention was caught by Winter, who was quietly discussing something with her boy, Swifty. Race loved her uniqueness...she had a tattoo of the Japanese symbols of 'Woman' and 'Warrior' on her shoulder and a large snowflake on her lower back. Her hair was braided into thousands of tiny little braids. All the braids had metal intertwined in them. It must have been hell for whoever braided her hair. Winter looked up at Race with her emerald eyes and waved gleefully. Being on the streets of New York had toughened her up a lot, but to everyone's eyes she was still a motherly girl unless you got her mad. Then, it was best to run. And very fast.  
  
Across the room, Whiskey was blatantly flirting with Specs. Her light green eyes were full of light and amusement and she raised a marked hand to brush his blonde hair out of his eyes---or rather, out in front of his spectacles. Her name was given to her because of the way she drank. She was constantly in a drunken daze and the scars on her hands were from her switchblade (when she was drunk, the switchblade was tantalizingly shiny and could move very, very fast). More often than it should happen, she started fights and got in the middle of them, using profanities strong enough to make even Spot blush. Now that she was with Specs, her drinking had gone down considerably.  
  
Blink's girl, Wink (named for her seductive wink that could stop traffic, as Spot used to say) was doing what she loved to do: sing. Blink sat across from her, joining in with his rich voice and harmonizing whenever it sounded good, but it was mostly her. Her mud-colored hair went down to the small of her back and her green eyes were closed as she belted out a well-known jazz song.  
  
The single boys, Snipeshooter, Itey, Boots, Pie-Eater, Crutchy and Snoddy were all gathered in the middle of the room, playing a rowdy game of poker.  
  
All in all, it was rather chaotic in the crowded Bunk Room. The atmosphere was wonderful, though, full of unspoken devotion between everyone. Blink, who now noticed Race, shouted out across the room, "Hey, Race, whea's Enchanted? She give ya permission ta walk home widout her?"   
  
It was a well-known fact how dominant Enchanted was. Without a question, she had gotten it from Midnight. Two hardened girls living on the harsh streets of the Bronx, they couldn't help but pick up personality traits from one another.  
  
"Nice one, wise-mouth," Race grumbled amidst the laughter, "but I'se don't need permission ta do anything. Does anyone know whea Jack is?"   
  
"Someone say my name?" Jack entered through the door behind Race, followed closely by a cheerful Rook, a big change since they saw her last on the stairs. He immediately noticed and observed the troubled look on their faces. "Shit," he muttered, knowing full well that the Bronx girls were in some sort of trouble. His good day plunged into a bad one within the matter of a minute. His first thought was of Midnight, and of her being horribly hurt. "C'mon," he led the three girls past the crowd and into the the empty bathroom. Somehow, he knew that the conversation had to stay private. Rook followed closely, not to be left behind. "All right, whad's goin' on? Is Midi hurt?" Tense and edgy, he waited nervously for their response.  
  
Being leaders of territories, Midnight and Jack had a lot in common. They were good friends, and Rook didn't mind that they spent time together, knowing that the relationship was strictly friendship.  
  
"No," Luna shook her head, relieving Jack of his worst worries.  
  
"No, but dere was a fight," Mimic cut in.  
  
"Between Spot and her," Luna continued. "She wasn't hurt dat bad, and Spot was worse off den her."  
  
Snicker snickered at the statement. "She's a hell of a fighter.  
  
"You're shoah dat she's okay?" Jack interrogated them.  
  
"I'm shoah," Luna assured him, "You should be worried bout Spot."  
  
"How hurt is he?" Rook asked curiously.  
  
The three girls looked at each other, confusion in their eyes.   
  
"Well," Mimic said after a puzzled silence, "we don't really know, but he was pretty hoit. Aftah a fight wid Midi, dere's no doubt dat he's got a few more scars than necessary."  
  
  
They had no idea he had almost fainted several times on the short trip back to the Lodging House.  
  
  
Jack sighed, feeling the weight of two partnerships on his shoulders. He knew that somewhere along the line, he might be forced to choose between Brooklyn and Bronx, and that was what troubled him. "Is dat da only reason you'se came ta see me?" he inquired wearily, "cuz I doubt you've come all da way heah ta tell me dere's been annuda fight between Spot and Midnight."  
  
"Dat's all," Luna confirmed.  
  
"Dat's all?" Jack repeated, surprised.  
  
"Yeah, Midnight jist wanted ta let ya know. We'll be goin' now."  
  
Rook sat back on the bathroom counter next to the sink and exhaled loudly, wondering how the two territories would settle things. All she ever heard about lately was how Spot and Midnight were always in a fight, a never-ending rumble. The animosity between Brooklyn and the Bronx seemed to stem out of nowhere, as most animosities do. Rook nervously picked at a nonexistent tangle in her raven black hair and bit her lip, apprehensive for the trouble that was going to come in the next few weeks.  
  
The three girls exited the bathroom, while Rook placed a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder and gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. She had never seen him so troubled.   
  
Snicker turned back before they left the Lodging House, remembering that Enchanted was. "Oh, and Chanty'll prolly spend da night at da Bronx, all right?"  
  
"All right," Jack said absent-mindedly, watching the three girls open the heavy wooden door and shut it firmly behind them. Distractedly, he turned back to the rest of his newsies, who were watching his face with open curiousity.  
  
"Jack," Skittery called, making him jump, "whad did dey say?"  
  
"Yeah, dey're Bronx goils, aren't dey?" Boots asked.  
  
Jack nodded, confirming the question. "Listen, guys," he raised his voice. Instantly, the whole room quieted down and shifted their attention to the Manhattan leader. "Dere's gonna be trouble between Brooklyn and da Bronx. More den dere ever was before."  
  
There was silence as they all contemplated this.  
  
After a few moments, Mush spoke up and stated what was on everyone's mind. "But us Manhattan newsies are friends wid both da Bronx and Brooklyn. So which one do we help?"  
  
Jack considered his answer for a few moments and then said in a stronger, more surer voice, "We gotta help both a dem stop dis. Otherwise, we're all in trouble.   
  
"Why?" questioned Psyche.  
  
"Cause dere's gonna be war," Jack replied in a matter-of-fact voice.  
  
"Spot and Midnight would never let it come ta dat!" Mush cried indignantly.  
  
  
"You don't know them, den," Jack said sorrowfully, "Dey're both headstrong, stubborn, and unfortunately, da both a dem don't know when ta give it up."  
  
  
  
Enchanted burst into the Bronx Lodging House. "MIDNIGHT!" she bellowed.  
  
"I'm right heah, Chanty, dere's no need ta shout," said a complacent voice.  
  
"I'm so pissed of at you! Don't ya know when ta give it up?!"  
  
"Oh please. Drop it, and pretend ta be happy ta see me, all right?" Midnight appeared out of the Bunk Room doorway.  
  
"Under different circumstances I would be ecstatic ta see you, but your stupid rumble wid Spot kinda makes me a lil bit mad. Uh-uh," Enchanted blocked Midnight from leaving the Bunk Room, "you ain't goin' nowhere. Git back in bed, Midi."  
  
"Why?" Midnight growled back fiercely.  
  
In response, Enchanted briefly tapped Midnight on her stomach, knowing from watching her that that particular area was sore.  
  
"Ow!" Midnight recoiled, "Chanty! What was dat for? Damn!" She lifted up her shirt to reveal the purple and green bruise that was starting to spread.  
  
"Oh hell no. You're gettin' back in bed, ya hear me?" Enchanted ordered when she studied the gruesome thing.   
  
"I'm fine!" Midnight nearly screamed.  
  
"I've known you for years," Enchanted tartly retorted, "and dat tough act don't work on me. So get in bed."  
  
Midnight grimaced and narrowed her mahogany eyes. "I'se don't believe dis!" she muttered as she stormed back into the Bunk Room and flounced down into her bed. "Happy now?!"   
  
"You need anythin'?" Enchanted asked, for a moment showing her rarely seen tender side. Midnight shook her head rigidly. "I t'ink it's gettin' outta hand, Mid," she stated, "you guys have been fighting evah since you met! Don't ya evah git tired?"  
  
Midnight only sighed.  
  
Enchanted steeled herself for what she was going to say, knowing before she uttered the words that they would be a waste of time. "Back down, Midi, before you really get hoit."  
  
Midnight's temper immediately flared and her eyes flashed fire, like brittle wood being tossed into a fire. "What?! Are you insane, Chanty? I'll nevah back down to dat pig in suspendahs! Dere's not a chance in hell!"  
  
Enchanted rolled her eyes. She had heard this all before, a million times to be precise, and now she was going to hear it again.  
  
"If I'se back down, it means I'm scared of him, and I ain't scared of Spot!" She said the name with loathing. "I fought 'im dis morning, and I didn't do dat ta waste my time! I am not backin' down!"  
  
"All right," Enchanted raised her hands in defense, "calm down. It was jist a suggestion. Jesus, I wish you had a guy. Maybe den you wouldn't erupt in people's faces as often as you do." She shook her head disappointedly, much like an irritated parent would.  
  
Midnight chuckled with a wide grin on her face. She playfully glared at her best friend, who was looking down at her with a friendly light in her eyes. "Well, as long as it ain't dat high and mighty son of a bitch Spot," Midnight rolled over on her side, turning away from Enchanted and facing a half-open window, "den fine."  
  
  
Ethan nervously stepped off the boat, looking around for the first time at New York. About a week ago he had packed his trunk full of clothes and stuffed his coin wallet as full of money. Excited at seeing the sights, he nearly dropped his trunk in the water more than once and had been reprimanded by his father. This being his first time in the U.S., his goal was to just have fun. "All right, Ethan," he heard his overworked father say as he descended after him, "I've been called off to business in Boston.   
  
"Father, what about your vacation?" Ethan asked concernedly. His father was working himself to the bone, and this was to be a family vacation.  
  
"I'll take one another time, Ethan. I trust you'll be in good shape when I find you next. Remember the hotel that I told you about?"   
  
Ethan nodded.  
  
"I'll see you there. Goodbye, Ethan," he stuck out his right hand formally. Sometimes, Ethan believed that his father was incapable of anything demonstrative. "I'll see you soon."  
  
"Goodbye, Father," Ethan shook his hand primly.  
  
As Father walked back on the boat and Ethan waved goodbye there was only a single thought on his mind: how he was going to pass the weeks by without so much as a tour guide.   
  
Nervously, he fingered the shimmering key hanging on a chain on his neck. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to us, except Midnight and Enchanted.   
  
Mirrors  
  
  
~*~  
  
It had been two weeks since Enchanted had made the trip to the Bronx to visit a stubborn Midnight. Spot and Midnight made less and less appearances around New York, and therefore didn't get in each other's hair too much. Since then, it had been abnormally quiet between the warring territories, except for one colossal and nasty fight on the Brooklyn Bridge, where Hazard and Pyro unwittingly stepped beyond the borders of Bronx area and crossed over into Brooklyn territory. There, rambunctious Blue, with his natural tendency to get into fights loudly challenged them to one. Which of course, Pyro and Hazard accepted. They had reputations to look after, right?  
Although it was two against one, it was fairly matched. Hazard and Pyro were fair fighters, but Blue's skill was outstanding enough to handle them. The three of them managed to do enough damage to each other to get a bull on his beat to notice the tumult they were causing on the Brooklyn Bridge. When the sharp whistling permeated the air, Blue broke away first from the fray and fled the scene. Mimic and Hazard, shouting curses after his retreating back, turned too, before the clad-in-blue bull could get his tarrying hands on them.   
Midnight threw a fit when they arrived. She couldn't be blamed. After all, two of her girls had arrived with bruises scattered all over their body after promising her that they were just 'going on a walk'. She rashly forbade all newsies to step into Brooklyn unless she sent them or unless she was with them. This imprisoned almost all of the Bronx newsies: most of them loved swimming on the Brooklyn piers or most of them had close friends that resided in the Lodging House. The atmosphere in the Lodging House became restless and uneasy.   
  
Ethan, on the other hand, just as he was stepping off the boat, had no idea what had happened between Brooklyn and Bronx, and if he did know, he probably wouldn't have cared. Right now, all he was worried about was making sure that he made it to the hotel his father had told him to stay at until he arrived from Boston again. Then, the real vacation would begin.  
His father was always like that. It didn't offend Ethan any because he knew the excuse was a good one. His mother, with her brown hair and cold, gray eyes, would be enough to keep him away from home too. Sure, she had a delicate, ethereal beauty that turned other people's heads on the street, but all she ever seemed to want to do was count her endless piles of money that she kept stashed away in her closet. Even during parties at other wealthy furnished houses, she never would enjoy herself. Instead, her gray eyes would start comparing the prices of their china vase to the china vase sitting on the mantel above the fireplace at home. If their vase was more expensive than hers, she would search for an even more extravagant vase at the most ludicrous prices, buy it, and then gloat upon it for at least a week. After a few months of taking his wife to his rich friends' houses, Ethan's father, Richard, soon quit at this attempt of bringing joy to his beautiful wife, understanding that if he didn't, he would end up broke and in the poorhouse.   
Soon, Richard was always away on business trips, preferring to love his wife from afar. There, he could judge her objectively, and collect the only thing that Elizabeth required of him: more money.  
The life Ethan lived was a lonely one. He had no siblings, no close family members (besides his father, who wrote him letters weekly so that he could get to know his only son), and no friends at all. His mother preferred to keep him under lock and key inside their mansion and she personally made sure that all the boys his age was kept away unless they were as rich as their family. As a result, most of Ethan's acquaintances were the snobby, spoiled kind.   
Once, Ethan had complained to Carlotta about how quiet it was in the large mansion, and told her that he wished he had a little brother, or a little sister, or a little something to keep him company. The look on Carlotta's face turned from neutral to a fusion of pain, anger, and sorrow so swiftly that Ethan laughed uncomfortably and assured her he was just joking.  
Well, he was glad that his father had talked his mother into letting him tag along to New York. It had been about time that he started seeing most of the world anyway.  
  
  
Ethan looked around the tiny hotel room. For such a small space there was a huge fee. He shrugged smoothly. He didn't have to worry about spending money; his father had left plenty for him. For the rest of the afternoon, he decided, as he slid his suitcase underneath the bed and making sure it was hidden by the heavy quilt that draped over the bed and pooled to the floor, he would look around this beautiful city. He had never seen anything so diverse and so populated, and he had only got small glimpses through the carriage window he had called to convey him to the hotel. Now, he would explore this city thoroughly from end to end and force it to give up its secrets to him. Examining his reflection in the mirror (he was wearing a dark blue suit) he tried a desperate attempt at taming his mousy brown hair and sighed in exasperation as it once again flopped over his eyes. Finally, he tucked away the key that his grandfather had presented to him the year of his first birthday and exited the dwarfish room, locking the door behind him.  
  
  
Blink wearily hawked the headlines of the last paper he held in his hand. It had never taken him this long to sell the papes. He tried another rendition of the worn-out headline and cursed when no one stopped, only stepped around him and gave him glances that basically meant, 'What are you still doing here, street trash?'   
He raised his voice and tried again when someone walked by him mid-sentence and bumped him roughly.   
"Sorry," the boy said in a thick English accent.   
Blink swallowed his anger and turned away from the boy, shouting out the headline. His warm blue eye widened when he realized whom the boy looked like. "Spot?" he asked skeptically, pivoting to where the boy had been before. He had swiftly disappeared in the mass of bodies, and Blink had to fight his way against the crowd before he found him again.  
"Spot!" he exclaimed triumphantly, placing a hand on his shoulder and spinning him around.  
Ethan blinked his blue eyes and stared disbelievingly at the newsboy. "Excuse me?" he asked in that thick English accent.  
"Spot, it's me, Blink," Blink said in reply to his confused stare. "Have you'se been drinkin' again?"   
"Why are you calling me that? My name isn't Spot, it's Ethan."  
"But it's you'se, Spot!" Blink laughed, like he had just got the meaning of a well-played joke. "I get it. You're messin' around wid me."  
"No, I'm not," Ethan answered emphatically, "I have no idea who Spot is, all I know is that I'm not him."  
"Shoah," Blink grinned widely, "and I suppose that there ain't a key around ya neck eiddah." His hand shot out and snatched up the concealed symbol that had become part of Spot's reputation.   
"What are you doing?!" Ethan cried, tugging away backwards, almost snapping the string that held the precious key. "How did you know that was there?" No one could have known about that besides his family, and his family was miles away from here.  
"C'mon, Spot!" Blink said with the same wide grin on his face. "I know it cuz you wear it all da time."  
Ethan was suddenly afraid. He had no idea what this newsie was doing talking to him and how this newsie knew something so important about him. "Who is this Spot fellow?" he interrogated the patch-wearing boy.  
"Ok, fine," Blink muttered. "Spot is da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies," he admitted resolutely.  
"Where is Brooklyn?" Ethan inquired entirely too politely.  
"It's ovah in dat direction, 'cross da bridge," Blink pointed, still playing along.  
"Thank you," Ethan nodded his head and then quickly walked away in that direction. Within a few seconds he had vanished into the crowd.  
Blink looked after him. The paper dropped from his hands and was instantly trampled by the passerby's. Ah, what was a penny worth anyways? It had taken a few more moments for it to work into Blink's brain that Spot had been wearing a suit. It had been navy-blue and looked as if it had been made of an expensive material.   
Also, he hadn't been speaking with a Brooklyn accent. Brooklyn accents were rough and jagged. Spot's voice (at the moment) had been smooth and even, which was the complete opposite of his regular voice.  
A little bit confused, and feeling that he should report this discovery to somebody who could make better sense of it than he could, Blink retraced his steps back to his selling post and then made his way back to the Lodging House, fighting against the swell of the crowd.  
A few feet away from the door of the Lodging House, Blink was hit with a notion. The only reason that Spot would be acting this weird was because of Bronx. He was planning something against them. Propelled by this idea, he ran into the building and up the stairs, nearly colliding with Jack, who was leaning against the wall, relaxing.  
"Heya, Blink. Whad's da rush?" Jack asked, carelessly.  
"Guess what I just saw outside." Without waiting for an answer, Blink went on to describe the strange encounter he had had with the leader of Brooklyn. "He was wearin' a suit! A real expensive one, too...and he was speakin' widout his accent. He was talkin' really weird, now dat I t'ink 'bout it."  
"Why are you so worked up about it?" Rook asked indifferently, running a hand through Jack's thick hair from where she was sitting. The mental picture that Blink painted was nothing at all like the short-tempered Spot. But then again, she had always known something was wrong with the vertically challenged rat.  
"No, you don't get it!" Blink turned to her. "He could only be actin' weird ta---"  
"He's plannin' sumptin' against Midnight." As usual, Jack was a step ahead and had interrupted Blink. Sighing, he slumped heavily against the wall. "I'm gonna have ta talk wid Spot when I'se see him," Jack muttered, mostly to himself. Once again, the burden of two partnerships was causing more stress than it was worth. Unseen by the others in the Lodging House, Rook patted his back in a gesture of comfort.  
  
Ethan stopped in the middle of the street, oblivious to the curses that rang out behind him. He was absolutely certain that he had passed this building several times in the past hour. With rising hysteria, he realized that he had been going in circles and hadn't made it any further than this street. He destitutely admitted to himself that he had been horribly lost for about an hour, which was a blow to his already-suffering pride. He briefly considered asking for directions, but quickly ruled out that idea. He had no desire to replay what had happened with that patch-wearing newsie. That conversation had gotten him nowhere closer to Brooklyn, no matter how many times he thought about it. It was uncannily eerie. That newsie had really believed that he was this so-called 'Spot' the 'leader of Brooklyn'. Ethan was completely convinced that unless this Spot looked exactly like him, there was no reason to even start being confused. He was rich and English, which was an absolute antonym to being poor and American. Contemplating upon this a bit more, he turned down a different alley and tried to work his way out of the natural complexity that was the streets of New York.  
  
"Luna," Mimic nudged the half-asleep girl that was perched on the edge of the roof next to her.   
"Huh---what?" she blinked drowsily and would have fallen had Mimic not grabbed her.  
"Look," she pointed out an expensively clad boy aimlessly wandering below them.   
"Wondahful," Luna replied sardonically, "and be shoah ta wake me jist in case I miss da queen a England." So saying, she went back to drowsing sleepily. Ever since Midnight told them Brooklyn was off-limits, the days had gotten increasingly boring and uneventful. There were no more casual fist fights, clamorous poker games or exhausting swims at the piers. All they ever did nowadays was sit on the roof and talk or stay downstairs and sleep.   
Mimic, exasperated, turned to the newsie beside her and pointed out the rich boy. "See dat, Batty?"  
The newsboy was appropriately named. Whenever he was bored, angry, happy, or any other emotion, he seemed to go crazy. Afterwards, for a day, he would be totally subdued, and at first you thought that he felt ashamed at losing control. But the better you got to know him, you'd figure out it was because going crazy exhausted him.  
"Yeah?" Batty ran a trembling hand through his dark hair.   
"He's rich," Mimic stated the obvious.  
"Yeah."  
"He must be a snob."   
Batty brightened as she noted this. "You know whad we could do?"  
"We could leave him alone," Athena piped up from the shaded corner of the roof. She had fair skin and was already starting to sunburn. She hadn't noticed this, however, because she was engrossed in a book that she had bought from a pawn store.  
"Aw, you're no fun," Mimic pouted. "Midnight's not even heah and we could use a lil fun. Let's go soak da snob."  
"C'mon, let's go," Batty excitedly grabbed Mimic's hand, who grabbed Luna's hand and he tugged the two of them towards the half-open window that led down to the Bunk Room.  
Athena sighed, marked her page in the book by inserting a newspaper bookmark and followed.  
In the Bunk Room, the rest of the newsies, were engaged in different activities. The ones who could write were busily scribbling in journals, and the ones who could read were immersed in used books. The rest of them were playing card games right in the middle of the wooden floor.  
"Hey, dere's a rich snob wandering outside ouah Lodging House right now," Mimic started.  
"Tell it ta someone who cares," Pyro muttered as she threw a card down.  
"As I was saying," Mimic threw an angry glare at the girl, who glared right back, "dere's a rich kid right outside. Let's go have a lil fun wid him."  
Instantly, the word 'fun' had its desired effect on most of the lethargic newsies in the Bunk Room.  
"Hell no," Snicker refused without hesitation.   
"Yeah," Pyro agreed. "Midnight ain't even heah."  
"Fo' God's sake," Hazard retorted, "dat's why we should do it! Evah since da fight wid Brooklyn, we've been stuck heah aftah we sell, day aftah day. Midnight's been up dere locked in her room, and dat gives us all a opportunity ta go out and have some fun instead of bein' stuck up in heah bored outta ouah minds!"  
This outburst got murmured agreements from the rest of the newsies.  
"Fine," Pyro shrugged as she put down another card. "Go git in trouble. I'se don't care."  
"You don't care 'bout anything," Mimic said sharply.  
"You ain't comin'?" Athena asked Snicker.  
"Nope," she said adamantly, "go and have your 'fun'."  
Athena seemed to consider this and then threw the book on her bed and plopped down next to the group playing with the cards. "Deal me in."  
"Your loss," Hazard shrugged and accompanied the stream of newsies to the door. Batty and Mimic was at the head of the crowd and were the first to spot the expensively clad Ethan. His back was turned to them, and he was craning his neck, as if he were looking for a familiar face in the streets.  
"Heya," Batty tapped Ethan on the shoulder. "Whatcha doin' heah, rich boy?"  
"Are ya lost?" Mimic asked jokingly.  
Ethan spun around on his heel. The Bronx newsies seemed to go in a state of shock when they realized who the 'rich snob' was. It happened to be Spot.  
"Um...do you happen to know the way to Brooklyn?"  
Now, this was even more shocking than the sight of Spot in a suit. Batty burst out laughing first, followed by Hazard, and soon the group of about 15 newsies was laughing uproariously. They had never heard Spot talk in such a snooty accent. Either it was all a joke or some crazy scheme...but whatever it was, they were going to get to the bottom of it.  
Ethan stood frozen with a clueless and dazed look on his face. That wasn't exactly the reply he was expecting. "What's so funny?" he questioned a bit sheepishly. The sound of his British accent started the group laughing again, even louder than before. "I am honestly lost!" he exclaimed.  
"Yeah right, Spot," Ring (another newsboy) chortled.  
"No, honestly!"  
"I suppose ya ain't Spot?" Mimic questioned, with a sneer spread on her lips.  
"No, I am not." This elicited a little more laughter from the girls, but the boys had found it a little bit annoying. "I am lost. I'm from Britain. This one boy in Manhattan called me Spot too, and told me I could find him in Brooklyn. I seemed to have gotten a little lost, so I would like to get the directions from you and find this Spot fellow and smooth this out."  
"Uh-huh," Batty crossed his arms, "shoah."  
"It ain't funny anymore, Spot," Ring cut in, irritated.  
"Stop calling me that!" Ethan demanded. "You don't even know my real name."  
"Yes, we do, and it's Spot Conlon. Who happens to have been banned from da Bronx territory, which would mean dat if you don't git off it right now, we'll kick your ass." The boy who had uttered this, Bricks, was so named because he loved hitting people with them.   
Ethan backed up slowly away from the Lodging House, towards a clothing store across the street. It seemed like this Spot fellow wasn't very popular at all. Ethan couldn't run; these newsies were fast runners and knew where they were going. When his back touched the wall of the clothing store, he turned his head from the advancing boys, scrunched his eyes closed tightly, and waited for the first blow to fall. He prayed that the people passing him by would stop the group of immature boys before they broke a few bones.  
Batty clenched his right hand into a fist and got ready to punch Ethan, and hard. Vaguely, before he let his fist fly, he heard a muttered, "Shit," from behind him. He pivoted quickly, dropping his hand and unclenching his fingers.   
Everyone seemed to have frozen with a look on their faces that was a mixture of shame and fear. Their heads were turned towards the Lodging House, and they looked absurdly like deer who had been spotted by hunters.   
Midnight stormed across the street, walking briskly and ignoring the pain that came shooting from her stomach. Not even halfway there, she didn't waste any time as she started shouting at them. "Whad da hell do you'se t'ink you're doin', huh? I've nevah met such a bunch a damn idiots in my whole life! You wanna git put in da refuge, ya dumbasses?! Will someone please tell me whad you pinheaded people were doing?" She put a hand to her forehead and massaged between her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She still had not noticed the cowering Ethan. "I'se leave you guys alone for a few moments and you start harassing people in da street! How could ya do somethin' as narrow-minded as dat?!"  
Throughout the whole tirade, a few of her newsies opened their mouths to speak but were cut off by her raving. Now, the newsies had lost their nerve and could do no more than exchange helpless glances.   
"Well? Will someone please explain who got dis moronic idea in da foist place? I mean---" Midnight rattled on.  
Mimic, prodded from behind by Hazard, squeaked and tried to explain. Before she could interrupt Midnight's flow of words, however, Ethan, did it faster.  
"Your 'boys'," he spat out disgustedly, "were about to attack me."  
"I am so sorry 'bout dat," Midnight apologized profusely, not taking her flaming eyes off of Batty, "and dey will be dealt wid shortly."  
Mimic quickly spoke before Midnight could start ranting. "Look at his face, Midnight!" she nearly shouted.  
Once again, she was too late. Midnight had already faced the boy and she was speechless and staring, shock visible on her face.  
Taking courage in the silence, Hazard said, "If dat ain't Spot, you can shoot us."  
"Yeah. We thought he was spyin' on us," Batty said.  
Luna, who had been silent through the whole thing nodded emphatically. "Midnight, look at him. He was obviously plannin' somethin'!"  
Midnight was oblivious to what her newsies were saying. For some strange reason, she knew it wasn't Spot standing before her. He was more than two inches taller than her, and there was just something about the eyes...they weren't glacial or icy. They were the complete opposite. Ethan didn't move as she scrutinized him. The only part of him that moved was his warm blue eyes as he, in turn, studied her too.   
Finally, Midnight whispered, "No, you ain't Spot at all." To which Ethan inhaled in relief and slumped against the wall of the clothing store. She approached him, enclosed his wrist in her hand and tugged him across the street and into the Lodging House. She blatantly ignored the protests of her newsies as she slammed the wooden door closed. She dragged him up the stairs and past the Bunk Room, where Pyro, Athena and Snicker were still enthralled in their card game. They didn't notice as Midnight stamped past the open door with a Spot look-alike in tow.   
"Wonder whad's happenin' ta dat poor rich boy down dere," Athena mused after a moment.  
"He's prolly called da bulls on all a dem, and we'll hafta break 'em outta da Refuge," Pyro answered absentmindedly.  
"Jist da four of us?" Snicker asked dubiously as she laid down her hand. "Two kings."  
  
Safe within the confines of her room, Midnight released Ethan's wrist. Then, taking two deep breaths to calm herself, she faced the bewildered boy. "Who are you?" she bluntly asked. As Ethan opened her mouth to reply, she shook her head. "Nevah mind dat. You're prolly wonderin' why everyone's callin' you Spot, right? He's a boy up in Brooklyn, and you look exactly like him." In a corner of her mind, a little bit of doubt was still hovering. If this was really Spot standing here in front of her, making a huge fool out of her and her newsies, she wouldn't hesitate to beat his face in.  
  
Outside, all the newsies were standing in the same places that Midnight had left them, confused and dazed. Finally, Luna asked the question that was haunting all of them. "What the hell just happened?"  
  
"You know, it's really uncanny. You look exactly like him. Well, 'cept you're taller, and..." Midnight stopped there. She almost blushed, in fact, and briefly wondered why she was being so shy.  
Ethan didn't notice how she paused and nodded. "A lot of people thought I was him." Then, he ruefully chuckled. "Not everyone seems to be fond of him, huh?"  
"You have no idea," Midnight grumbled underneath her breath. She inhaled sharply and turned away from him to glance out the window. The sun was already setting. "Listen, you can't git ta Brooklyn now. It's too late." As if to prove this, she nodded at the setting sun.   
Of course, he had no idea she was lying through her teeth. The Bronx bordered Brooklyn, and it would have taken only 15 minutes to get to the Brooklyn Lodging House.  
"It ain't safe to go walkin' around today. Jist stay heah and tomorrow I'll go find Spot, arrite?" The moment she uttered this, Midnight asked herself what was wrong with her. She had no intention of even finding Spot or talking to him. And why did she insist he stay here at the Lodging House and not leave the Bronx? After a moment's deliberation, she shrugged the confusion off and told herself it was because she didn't want to be responsible for him if anything bad happened to him as he wandered around Brooklyn. After all, Spot would stoop so low to soak his look-alike for being impudent to him.   
The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon night drew its curtain across New York.  
  
When morning came, Midnight escorted Ethan back to his hotel. As he opened the door, he turned back to her. "Will you find Spot for me?"  
Before she could stop her tongue, she said foolishly, "I promise."  
He beamed, nodded politely at her and then disappeared into the building.   
When the door closed, Midnight proceeded to beat her head upon it and cursed herself. She had promised him something she would never do. Still angry with herself, she walked away from the building, feeling the rays of the sun warm her neck.  
  
Midnight returned in the evening and walked into the hotel lobby, a lie already formulated in her mind. "May I go ta see Ethan, please?" she politely inquired. The man at the desk glanced down at her and shook his head disgustedly.   
"What would he want with a street rat like you," he didn't ask this, but rather stated it like it was a fact.  
"I have great need of her," a voice from behind her made her whirl around. Ethan was sitting at the foot of the stairs, an annoyed look on his face. "And another thing. The next time someone comes around looking for me, you're to let them see me."  
"Oh...fine," the man stuttered and waved his hand imperiously.   
Ethan rolled his eyes and ascended the stairs, followed closely by Midnight. He didn't even wait to get to his room. He turned to her and asked with urgency, "Have you found him?"  
"Uh...no," Midnight replied, her eyes cast to the floor. "Apparently, he's been gone and should be back in a week or so." She didn't even mention the important fact that Spot was the Brooklyn leader or that she was in a fight with him.  
Ethan sighed, shook his head and plodded along to his room disappointedly. "Want to come inside for a few minutes?" he asked dejectedly.  
Midnight briefly considered the question for a moment, but then decided not to. The secrecy was too much for her to handle, and she would probably blurt out something that would destroy the lie she had just told him. Plus, the pressure of the Brooklyn feud and keeping this boy safe was tearing her up inside.   
"All right. I'll see you next week, then?" Ethan questioned.  
"Wait." Midnight put her hand up. She had decided that it would be better if she had told someone who could help her out. Her mind flew straight to Jack. "I t'ink we should go see a friend a mine who could help ya find Spot."  
The cold night caused Midnight to shiver. Walking along to the Manhattan Lodging House, the both of them made small talk on the furthest things from their mind.  
Ethan was wondering to himself why it was so important to him to find Spot only because people have been telling him he looks exactly like him.  
And Midnight, though she wasn't showing it, was extremely nervous. Too late, she discovered that she should have just confided in Enchanted and left the whole matter unknown to Jack. She contemplated over turning back, but she knew that Ethan would protest. Besides, it wasn't her style to back out of something because she was nervous. The Manhattan Lodging House was already in sight, so she couldn't just tell him that it was too late in the night to go any further.   
As they walked along, Midnight saw something that made her blood run cold. She halted in her tracks without giving a warning to Ethan who collided into her from behind.   
Posted outside the Lodging House were Blue, Cynic, and Tiger, boys that were inseparable from Spot.   
"What's---" Ethan started, but Midnight raised a hand to shush him. She prayed they would go away, prayed more than she ever had in her life, but her hopes were squashed as she heard a loud voice from the upstairs window. She instantly recognized it as Spot's voice.   
"Shit," she ducked down instinctively, and motioned for Ethan to follow her into an alley. He followed without asking any questions, something she would thank him for later. The alley was at the side of the Lodging House and there was a fire escape placed conveniently at the end of the alley that led right up to the window where the shouting was coming from.  
Ethan crept along behind her, a thousand questions flooding to his lips, but the way Midnight was leading him along somehow told him that he would have to ask her later, when they could walk normally again.  
Midnight signaled Ethan to crouch down by the bottom of the fire escape and wait as she ascended the steps slowly. She didn't have to strain to hear any of the words; the whole side of Manhattan could hear it without trying to. She didn't hear one word from Jack, however, and felt a twinge of pity for him. He couldn't get one word in edgewise, probably, at the speed Spot was going. She closed her eyes, gathered her courage and slowly peeked through the window.   
The first thing she saw was Jack, facing her, but not noticing her. He looked ill at ease, and as if he was at a loss for words. In front of him, Spot paced back and forth, his can gripped in one hand and his other hand tightened in a fist. The look on his face was savage, and his glacial eyes were filled with a wild animalistic manner. He looked ready to kill something.  
Behind Jack, Midnight could see the rest of the Manhattan newsies clustered together in a corner. Most of them didn't seem to move, except for Enchanted, who was scoffing softly underneath her breath at whatever absurd thing that Spot was saying, and Race, who was trying in vain to get her to shut up.  
"If my sources inform me dat Midnight's been seen wandering around in Manhattan territory wid me, den she's wondering around in Manhattan territory, jist not wid me! Arrite?! I don't care whad da hell da excuse is, I'se want ya to find her da next time she's heah and beat one out of her! I want da situation taken care of!" Spot ignored the blank look that Jack was giving him and the glare that Enchanted was shooting at him.  
Midnight could have stayed there and listened all night, but she realized with a start that Ethan was still at the bottom of the fire escape, listening too. Not needing to see anymore she ducked back down underneath the windowsill and listened for five more minutes until she crawled along the bottom of the window and then descended the stairs quickly. Still silent, she motioned Ethan to follow along behind her.  
Yet as she turned to start walking, someone placed a rough hand on her shoulder...  
~*~ 


End file.
